


Under My Skin, Close to My Heart

by 10moonymhrivertam



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Also anything I used for the last one, Edit, Gen, M/M, Mood Skin, Rewrite, S3, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers, mood rings, unrequieted love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2414060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10moonymhrivertam/pseuds/10moonymhrivertam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rewrite of my previous story, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/649246/chapters/1180972">Under My Skin</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Study In Pink (Or maybe in Shock-Blanket Orange)

Sherlock tromped up the steps to 221B, trailing behind John.

"Told you that Chinese was good." He taunted, eying John's sky-blue color and deeming it contentment.

"Oh, stuff it." John said. Sherlock imagined the other man rolling his eyes.

"Never."

They continued, now in silence, and John went further upstairs, throwing Sherlock an absent 'good night'.

Sherlock retreated into his own room and perched upon his bed. He began to slowly remove his shirt. When he was done, he stood and went to his mirror. There, on the left side of his chest, was a ring of color, about half-an-inch thick and the circumference no bigger than his thumb and forefinger touched together - Mood Skin, like normal people had - like Mycroft had. And while his older brother's might be a more complete coverage, Sherlock knew Mycroft's was deceptive.

However, Sherlock had never bothered with being deceptive – for the longest time, he hadn't seen the point of it, and by the time he started to understand why Mycroft might want to be deceptive, he had given up on emotions, and it had been more-or-less black for his whole life. But ever since he and John had spoken, earlier that night, about John's shooting of the cabbie, there had been a pins-and-needles feeling in that ring of skin.

And now black was shot through with thin streaks of shock-blanket orange, branching out like lightning.  
He, of course, knew immediately what this color meant, and so he couldn't help but admire the irony that the ring was around his heart.

It meant that he was in love. It meant that he was in love with John Watson.

He stared at himself for a while before turning sharply from the mirror to head to bed.


	2. The Blind Banker (And the Jealous Detective)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight edits have been made from the original.

Sherlock noted that it took a while after being kidnapped by General Shang for John's Mood Skin to solidify into a single color, rather than a marbled pattern of turmoil, and a while after that, despite John's obvious exhaustion, to coax the blond into bed. Sherlock noted, absently, that when John was properly tired, his skin turned neutral, like most of Sherlock's own, though quite a bit more tanned.

Once Sherlock had convinced John to go to bed, he retired to his own room. He locked the door and shed his shirt as he walked towards his mirror - something that had been becoming a routine, it seemed. Since the last case, the small patch on his chest seemed to have slowly succumbed to an ever-shifting form of Mood Skin. A good deal of said Mood Skin was love-struck, shock-blanket orange, most days, but tonight, it was marbled through with a jealous forest green, and lightning strikes of fearful neutral. A tired ring of midnight blue was near the edge, barely distinguishable from the ring of black that still outlined what he tended to call his Mood Ring.

He rubbed, frowning, at the Ring. He stopped with a sigh and flopped into bed, hoping that when he awoke, it would be back to a simple orange and black - although, he realized with a slight sinking feeling, neither John nor Sarah had formally dumped the other...

In the morning, he went about his routine and checked his Ring. Snaking green was trying to strangle the orange lightening, and Sherlock stared at it for several moments before turning away to get dressed.


	3. The Great Game (And the Growing Mood Ring)

Lately, Sherlock hadn't been feeling the changes his Mood Ring made. His own emotions were the only hint to his Mood Ring changing.

Now, though....oh, now it stung. He knew why, though. For the first time in weeks, it was one, solid color. Sherlock knew innately that it was neutral - non-Mood-Skin tone – because Sherlock's neutral signaled terror, and all he could focus on at the moment was fear for John. He couldn't even quite be angry with Moriarty, not now.

When Moriarty left, it stung again, and he knew that his love-orange had returned, combined with a burnt-orange shade of relief. The Mood Ring was still marbled with the neutral terror, and speckled through with his tired midnight-blue. The whole thing throbbed in time with his heart.

Then Moriarty returned, and it was back to full, stinging terror, and it didn't seem to be throbbing anymore. Soon, Morarity left to meet the client with the phone call. The flooding back of other emotions and colors wasn't as instant this time, but the throbbing seemed stronger, even though it wasn't any more frequent. He rubbed absently at it and went to John's side. John asked if he was alright, nodding to his hand. Sherlock nodded and dropped the hand, and they left. 

Mycroft was out by the street on the curb, speaking on his phone and attempting damage control. Sherlock had to do a double-take, given that Mycroft's Mood Skin was, for once, vivid and marbled. Sherlock encouraged John to get out of there quickly.

Several hours later, Sherlock slipped into his room, beginning his daily Mood Ring check, now a regular part of his bedtime routine. He froze, however, as soon as he saw his reflection. He stared, and neutral struck through the Ring, indicating his own fear to him.

The colors weren't the big deal tonight. What was wrong tonight was the size. The ring now took up nearly half his chest - he would need to touch all his fingertips together in a ring now to show the size. A black outline had reappeared on the outside edge, despite the fact that sometime before the beginning of the case, on the smaller Ring, the orange had fought the black and won. Sherlock continued to stare at himself, and finally he turned away and dressed for bed.


	4. Scandal in Belgravia (Introducing the Pink-Green of Embarrassed Jealousy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JOHN'S POINT OF VIEW

Ever since that day where John had made that sarcastic quip about baby names, he knew there was a jealous dark green marbling his skin, and he was sure Sherlock knew what it meant, as he kept looking at John strangely, as though wondering who John could possibly be jealous of.

Of course, those looks caused John to be embarrassed, a pink tinge making itself known. More odd looks. More pink. Soon, Sherlock stopped giving him the odd looks, knowing that if he didn't stop, the pink would take over John's skin.

All this made John jealous for an entirely different reason - John could not see how Sherlock was feeling except by the expression on his face, which could be faked easily enough.

/Sherlock should be glad,/ John grumbled to himself, /that he doesn't have Mood Skin./

 

**

 

Throughout the case, John's jealousy of Irene continued to show and his embarrassment over that did, as well, the pink blushing across the green. But soon enough, Irene was gone, and Sherlock had stopped sulking over her, and all was well again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that's short. I think I need to do some rewatching or cut down some of my s3 chapters...


	5. The Hounds of Baskerville (And the Howling of Secret Affection)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JOHN'S POINT OF VIEW AGAIN

John lay in bed after the Baskerville case, staring up at his ceiling and feeling vaguely frustrated with Sherlock and envious of his lack of Mood Skin.

John was sure that if Sherlock had Mood Skin and that John had seen it, John would've caught on a lot quicker to Sherlock's attempt to drug him with coffee. John wondered briefly what color Sherlock's guilt would be, but didn't dwell on it.

John groaned softly and turned over, burying his head in his pillow. He was struck with the sudden urge to know what all Sherlock's colors would be - Sherlock's friendship and Sherlock's terror, his contentment and ill-temper. But John would never get that, he knew, so it would be pointless to wish.

John, after a moment of trying to dismiss the thought of colors from his mind, realized Sherlock had been acting odd lately, especially after they'd solved the case. Sherlock had been rubbing his chest, an uncomfortable look on his face. Sherlock didn't seem to be in pain, but he did seem bewildered or emotionally distressed. John wished he knew why. He sighed and tried to drift off to sleep, focusing on the sweet notes being pulled out of the violin downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have ideas on how I could augment this chapter, let me hear them.


	6. The Reichenbach Falls (So does Sherlock)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now back to your regularly scheduled Sherly.
> 
> HEY OLD READERS
> 
> Don't skip this chapter. Major edits have been made to the post-jump scene.

It had been on the back of Sherlock’s mind that his Mood Ring - well,  _splotch_  now, he supposed, as it covered his entire chest, bleeding down into the rest of his abdomen - hadn’t been growing lately. It both relieved and disturbed him that he felt it surge to cover more of his torso when he realized what Moriarty needed to do to complete his plan. Moriarty just needed him to die in disgrace, as a coward....he needed Sherlock to kill himself.

Sherlock carefully continued to plan, and continued to feel it bleeding around to cover his torso and back.  
And now Sherlock was standing on the roof, talking to John, feeling immensely relieved that none of his exposed skin had been affected yet.

Painful memories drifted across his awareness: The cabbie, knowing his weakness for the right sort of results.

 _“I’m not going to kill you, Mr. Holmes. I’m going to talk to you, and then you’re going to kill yourself.”_  It made sense that the man was one of Moriarty’s lackeys - Moriarty had used that exact method on him.

Sherlock’s own words during that case came across his mind.  _“If you were dying, if you’d been murdered, in your very last few seconds, what would you say?”_

Sherlock had thought then that his answer would be ‘give them a clue’. But it wasn’t. His answer, which made his Mood Skin throb terribly, was “Goodbye, John.”

And then, he was falling.

 

********

 

Sherlock tried to ignore the way he could feel his brother staring at him. The more Mycroft eyed the melancholy red-violet, the more it gave way to a grey discomfort. When Sherlock was almost entirely grey, Mycroft finally, finally, put his attention somewhere else, giving Sherlock a moment to try and reign in his Mood Skin.

When Mycroft had Sherlock's attention back, the older man handed the younger one a file folder, but then fished behind himself on the desk for something that he placed on top of the file folder. Sherlock made a face upon seeing it – an ad for make-up that was designed to match one's neutral tone so they could hide their Mood Skin. Mildly expensive, but not so expensive that one had to be on Mycroft's level to afford it. Sherlock looked up at Mycroft, and they stared at each other for a while. Then Mycroft sent Sherlock away, and Sherlock set out on his mission to keep the people he loved safe.


	7. The Empty Hearse (And the Peach Wedding Band)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another headjump, but I think this one's pretty blatantly obvious. We're with John again.

John felt like he was fighting with himself to stay sky blue rather than his nervous yellow. He hardly even had to think to keep his useless, depressed gray-orange from his skin. Mary had done well at dismissing the remnants of how he felt about Sherlock. A peach-colored love bloomed across his hands as he fiddled with the ring box. He put it back in his pocket and looked up. Sky blue mixed with peach spread effortlessly across his skin at the sight of her. She smiled, blue and peach emanating from the corners of her mouth out across her skin. She made her way over and John tried to get the balls up to actually get the question from his brain to his mouth when the oddest French waiter entered and began to be completely oblivious about what was going to happen.

When John looked up, his skin went, first, a shocked white. Then, as Sherlock began speaking, furious red bloomed across John's skin. Still, Sherlock's skin did nothing. Not that that was a surprise. 

The fight that ensued from Sherlock ignoring John's colors led them through several different restaurants, and eventually led to a headbutt. But it didn't make Sherlock any nicer, and it didn't make color bloom across his skin – nothing but the blood red that John usually so hated seeing. This time, all it was was satisfying. Sherlock ought to bleed, for putting John through so much pain.

But as John got into a cab and snapped at Mary to do the same, he rubbed at his forehead. It felt odd...almost like there was a powdery film across his skin. He frowned as he rubbed at it, but Mary encouraged him to just ignore it and be sure to take a shower when they got back to the flat.

*********** 

John was just finding it in himself to try and have a calm conversation with Sherlock when he felt a little jab at his neck, and the world disappeared. He awoke disoriented and extremely uncomfortable. And cold. It smelled weird, as well.

His colors were simply swirling, pinkish confusion for a while before he began to sort out more smells. Then he started to realize how screwed he was. Then, he tried to call for help. He felt something a bit wet, and terror overwhelmed him. The bonfire was about to be lit, with him inside, and his terrified black Mood Skin wouldn't do anything to save him.

He tried to call for help some more, but heard a girl scream just as it started to get very, very hot. 

A moment later, John could see the sky and desperate hands grabbed at him and hauled him roughly out of the bonfire, dragging him far back toward clear ground. John found himself staring up into Sherlock's grey-blue eyes, with Sherlock's gloved hands cupping his face.

John passed out, and then didn't remember very much of before or after his unconsciousness when he woke up again.

************ 

Things went on, and John recovered. He occasionally stopped in at Sherlock's, and one day happened to come over while Sherlock's parents were around. For a moment, John didn't think they were anyone but clients – their Mood Skin was almost hyperactive, marbled with each and every emotion they felt. He certainly wouldn't have guessed out of the blue that Sherlock and Mycroft, with their non-existent and deceptive Mood Skin, respectively, had sprung from the loins of this genial couple.

But their and Sherlock's attitude eventually caused him to cotton on, and John could do little but stare in disbelief at how abnormally ordinary the pair were.

*** 

Later on, after Sherlock lied to him in the train car, John was feeling wound up and bitter, and he could not stop himself from voicing some of his less-than-flattering thoughts.

“It would keep me out of so much trouble if you'd inherited your parent's bloody hyperactive Mood Skin,” John muttered.  
As he walked away to go back to his and Mary's home, he missed Sherlock's self-conscious frown.


	8. The Sign of Three (Plus Some Melancholy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new POV

When Lestrade arrived at Baker Street, he could see that Sherlock was not in the best state of mind. Spots of color peeked out over his face, and there were slight circles beneath his eyes, and Lestrade started to realize that the reason Sherlock's face had seemed different since he came back was not just added thinness, but make-up. Had he always had Mood Skin? No...Sherlock had taken plenty of cases in the rain before and never ended up colorful then. So what had happened? Was it possible for people to develop Mood Skin over time? 

Lestrade snapped out of his confusion as Sherlock held up a book. Lestrade quickly realized that Sherlock had only wanted his help with a speech, and he flushed with fuchsia embarrassment, muttered some quick excuse that would give him a few minutes, and then called off all the people he had asked to come.

*********** 

Lestrade, like most of the guests, sat on John's side for the ceremony. Unlike most of John's guests, Sherlock's friends had their eyes constantly flickering to the mysterious man. Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade couldn't seem to stop watching the Consulting Detective's face, worried. They all recalled all the looks he'd ever given John, and they were worried that Sherlock was going to break down. But here he was. Perfectly fine. 

Lestrade couldn't help but wonder if Sherlock's color for miserable was roiling beneath his make-up.

*********** 

Well, whatever Sherlock's new Mood Skin was doing, it wasn't so horrible that Sherlock was unable to make it to the reception. His speech was faltering, but good....until he dropped the champagne flute. At which point Lestrade started to register that something might be wrong, especially as Sherlock half-jumped away from the spilled liquid.

The chase after the almost-murderer of one of John's guests turned out to be delightful, even if it was a bit too macabre for a wedding.

It was nice to wind down, afterward, by watching John and Mary dance to Sherlock's absolutely beautiful composition, and then to join the dance himself. A half-hour went by, and then Lestrade finally looked around, planning to make sure Sherlock was mingling, only to find that the man wasn't there at all. Lestrade grimaced at the reminder of Sherlock's feelings for John, and he left shortly after, feeling as though John had betrayed Sherlock, even if that may not be fair.


End file.
